Pretty Saro
by whatsamatta
Summary: One must learn that actions have consequences, even if it's the hard way. Especially if it's the hard way.


_**Disclaimer: [Dis-Kley-Mer] n. 1. The act of disclaiming; the renouncing; repudiating, or denying of a claim; disavowal. 2. A person who disclaims. 3. A statement, document, or assertion that disclaims the responsibility, affiliation, etc; disavowal; denial.**_

_**Get it? Hey! Arnold does not belong to me. This is an alternate universe fiction, and so before I tell you the story, I guess I'll have to simplify the dimension. It's the 1920s-1930s, with the 18**__**th**__** century mindset on certain functions of society. That's all I'll say on that matter. Now for the rant: **_**will you bitches just review the god damn stories already. If I get one more notification that this person added you to their favorite author's list or this story is save and on alert (stories I haven't worked on in years) I'm gonna rip my hair out! Not even a little line asking why I've been gone for so long, you guys suck dirty hairy balls. Stop being pussies, or I'll have to start writing things you really won't like, if only to inspire violence. Bitches. **

HA

_**I**_

Their eyes met, separated by four sets of pews and several factions of affluence. Blue eyes alit with a mischief uncommon of her station, he watched in fascination as she winked at him. It caught him off guard, forcing his curious and intrigued mind to look around him – see if there was anyone else looking at her. There wasn't. He turned his face back to her and her smile widened, winking at him and even blowing a subtle kiss.

"_Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood upon the chaos dark and rude; and bid its angry tumult cease and give, for wild confusion, peace . . ." _The voices sang around them, loud as if God would hear them and come down into the rafters. That wouldn't happen; the majority was terrible.

He watched her lift a hand to stifle a laugh, like she had heard his thoughts. That alone made him blush and his ego soar. Such a beautiful woman, far above him in life when it came to wealth and most likely happiness, and she was flirting with him.

"_O hear us as we cry to Thee for those in peril on the sea."_

"My God watch and protect us. Go in Peace."

"Amen."

Everyone around them rose to their feet, and he lost her in the sea of bodies. A gentle hand took his, and he turned his focus again to meet the soft grey blue eyes of his wife. She smiled warmly, nodding towards the doors that led out into the foyer.

"How about we go out for lunch today?" Her hands were small as they slipped into his, fingers long and elegant when wrapped between his own. His orbs went back to where the woman had been, but when his search yielded no success, he nodded and led his wife out of their pew.

Three steps later and there she was, smiling and laughing with another member of their congregation, looking deviously sinful in her Sunday best. Her eyes would move back to him every now and again. His feet stopped of their own accord, and he barely looked his lovely wife in the eyes as his waved her off.

"Actually, I was planning on meeting up with Gerald and the boys, if you don't have a problem with it." His words were out of his mouth quickly, and only briefly caught the look of disappointment in her eyes before he lost focus again.

"Alright, I'll see you at home then." Her words were heavy with the look in her orbs; he had only just turned to walk away when she spoke again.

"I love you Arnold." Reaching around, she pecked his lips as soft as her hands and he barely returned the favor.

"You too Helga." And then he was gone, walking away from her and into the mass of the freshly freed church congregation.

He didn't hear her disenchanted sigh. See her shoulders slump dejectedly. She just turned, her eyes seeing and knowing more than she let on, and walked out one of the side doors and down the path to the family's Model A Ford. Arnold was a grown man, and could make his own decisions. Just whether or not he recognized that his actions garnered consequences for everyone was another matter entirely.

_**II**_

Slowly yet with confidence she breezed past her other admirers, keeping her eyes fixated on the man she was determined to bring home that night. There was a lovely blonde standing beside him, and she watched with amusement as the woman kissed him, but was forced to toddle away from him defeated. Who was she anyway? That skinny little blonde nobody? She was probably poor, coming to church to pray for more money so she could be considered in the same class as _her_. Sorry honey, God doesn't listen to skinny little nobodies.

_That's probably his wife_, the voice of reason chimed in her head, but she ignored it in lieu of the handsome blonde man that had now reached her.

"Come home with me, Arnold Moser, home with me tonight. Come home with me and sleep with me till light." Her voice was smooth as champagne, bright and beautiful red hair framing her sharp, angular face. He wanted to laugh at how bold she sounded, but realized that it must often work for her to be so comfortable with no fear of rejection.

Glancing down to hide his smirk, he noticed her rings – one ring in particular. It was large, gold and gaudy, a magnificent diamond sitting proudly in the middle. Several smaller, multicolored gems adorned it like attendants in waiting on their king. And it, naturally and of course, rested possessing on her wedding finger. A lump formed in his throat and slowly moved down at the realization of what it symbolized.

"I'm sorry, I can't sleep with you tonight. By that ring on your finger I can tell you're Wolfgang's wife." His words sang true, and as he looked up to meet her eyes, he found her coy smile alluring. She laughed in his face then, before leaning forward so her bold red painted lips barely graced the shell of his ear.

"What if I am Wolfgang's wife? He's not at home in any case. His across town doing business with our new Hotel, and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." And then she kissed him. On the cheek of course, they were in a church and both married to another, but she kissed him just the same. As a form to seal the deal, Arnold nodded, and the pair of them made their way towards her husband's Rolls Royce that he graciously left for her personal use while he was away.

Standing by the coat rack, another blonde haired man watched them leave, before shaking his head in disgust. He always knew she was a loose woman, but this went too far.

"I have to tell Wolfgang." Was all Edmund muttered before excusing himself from the Ladies' Auxiliary team and all but rushing out the door to his own awaiting Packard.

_**III**_

The pair had barely made it into the Manor before they were on each other, kissing and touching and teasing and nipping. She led the way up their stairs, benefiting him with a striptease as she removed one article at a time, enticing him with sneak views of her creamy skin. He followed in kind, pulling off his shirt and dropping it on the marble steps before kicking off his boots and socks. Reaching the landing, he had just started on the buckled of his pants when a completely bare figure stopped him.

Throwing him a sensuous wink, his pretty companion slowly slid down onto her knees before him, pulling his pants down at an agonizing rate. When the fabric brushed over his raging cock, he moaned in a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. She smirked, blowing hot air onto his freshly revealed member. The groan that followed was one she would remember for all her life. Wolfgang loved it when she gave him head, but was not nearly as responsive as Arnold was – and he always had to grab her hair, controlling her control.

Arnold, meanwhile, was in pure bliss. Yes, Helga had given this a try, having heard stories of French girls during the war from her beloved husband; but she wasn't nearly this practiced. Her tongue didn't swirl around his head and dip into his slit. Her hand didn't move up and down his length as it coated him in moisture. She didn't dare cradle his ball sack like she was kneading bread.

Eyes rolling in the back of his head, his knees were just about to give out when his pretty little red head pulled away with a distinctive pop. Giving him a look he had to classify as dominant, he watched as she rose to her feet and sauntered over to a door, hips swaying hypnotically. He studied the way the muscles of her body worked beneath her flesh, the bounce of her breasts as she massaged them with each step.

"I ask again, Arnold Moser. Will you sleep with me tonight?"

There was no denying her this time.

Just as she entered the doorway, he scrambled after her, tripping over the pants that had tangled around his ankles. Laughing at himself and his aroused haste, he slipped his feet out of the restrictive pant legs and all but ran after his desire. She was there, lying spread out on the bed like a feast for his eyes.

There would be no foreplay for her, he dimly registered in the back of his mind. He was too far past that as he rushed at her, grabbing her hands above her head and kissing her harshly as he rammed his cock into her. He nearly missed the opening in his alacrity, and she groaned in her own mix of pain and pleasure as she felt him force his way in. It felt good to fuck a man different than your husband, she was well aware as the man above he began humping his way into oblivion. Sexual partners are like clothes, and there were many things inappropriate about wearing the same thing day after day.

Her moaning increased as she threw in words like _oh God_, and _right there_, and _fuck me, fuck me, fuck me oh!_ She was far more vocal than his wife, which he wasn't sure was a good thing yet or not. And she wasn't nearly as tight, but she did squeeze him with her muscles to make up for it, negotiating her legs so one was around his waist and one was up on his forearm as he held her hands down. So she was flexible? That was a kinky bonus.

Feeling the pinnacle of his orgasm fast approaching, he began pounding harder and faster, which in turn caused her moans and exclamations transform into incoherent shrieks. Finally there in the blinding glory of pure pleasure, her rammed in as far as he could, grunting in pure animal satisfaction as she wailed her own demise. His hot release shot into her delighted body as his penis relaxed enough for him to pull out of her. She arched her body into his at the motion, and the act alone had him partially stimulated again.

_**IV**_

When Arnold next awoke, it was to something other than what he expected. There standing at the foot of the bed, was a big blonde man, two pistols on each hip, arms crossed, and a frown on his commanding features.

"Wolfgang."

"Tell me, are you comfortable? Like my feathered bed? How are the sheets? And my wife? How's she?"

Rather than doing what others had done when caught, he didn't profusely apologize before fleeing the scene of the crime, never to return. Instead, he felt the sheets and blankets, then looked at the sleeping redhead still in his arms. With a smile neither triumphant nor proud but simply content, he nodded.

"The bed and sheets are both excellent, you have wonderful taste. But I think I like your wife the best." As if to emphasize his point, his wife moaned in her sleep as she moved closer to the naked man in her bed.

"_**ARGH!**_ Get up! GET UP! It won't be said in this City that I killed a naked man!" The jealous and slated husband shouted as he ripped the covers that hid the lovers. His wife screamed at being awakened so sudden and violently, tripping off the bed and back against a wall, not bothering to hide herself. Both men had obviously seen all of her, and modesty was the last thing on her mind.

Arnold meanwhile had shoved himself up against the headboard of the bed, holding his hands up to Wolfgang as he raised his voice.

"I _can't_, **won't**, **_can't_** get up for my life! For you have two _well_-**beaten** swords, and I not a pocket knife!" he shouted in defense, motioning towards the two firearms that accompanied the larger man. Wolfgang looked down at his weapons and smirk sadistically. Taking them out of their holsters, he pondered them for a moment before reestablishing eye contact with the adulterer.

"Well that's true, I have two beaten swords and they cost me deep in the purse – but here, you will take the better of them and I will have the worst. And you will strike the very first blow, and you will strike it like a man. For I will strike the very next blow and I _**will**_ kill you if I can." His instructions complete, Wolfgang tossed the startled man his best and newest pistol, waiting as the blonde stood shakily, the gun held uncertainly in his hands. His wife wouldn't stop whimpering, and it took every ounce of control he had to not shoot her as well.

Sending a quick look to his partner in crime, Arnold lifted the pistol, aimed and fired, nicking Wolfgang in the shoulder. The larger man groaned in pain and grabbed at the wound as his wife screamed in surprise. Rolling his eyes and steeling his nerves, the wronged husband stood again and aimed his own pistol, and with the pull of the trigger Arnold fell.

He didn't stand up again.

His wife shrieked, but calmed when he took her hand and pulled her onto the bed with him. Sitting down, he brushed some of her red hair away from her face as the tears made silent tracks down her cheeks.

"Lila, Lila Lila Lila. Tell me, who do you like the best of us, that Arnold Moser or me?" his voice was soft and reassuring, nothing at all like the tone he had used in the duel. She sniffed a few times before releasing a breath and looked her husband straight in the eyes.

"I'd rather a kiss from his dead lips than you and your finery." As unrestrained as she had always been, he still had never in all their years heard her speak so free. In wake of his astonishment he felt the anger, the jealousy, quickly rising. With an indignant shout of retribution he stood and aimed his pistol at her. She barely had time to gasp before he shot her in the head.

That had been the last straw for his resentful heart. Naturally he had caught her in the deed with other men, but that was the first one she loved over him. That was unacceptable.

"Edmund." He called tiredly, the adrenaline fleeing his body. His friend was quickly standing at the door, looking in on the bloody scene with an understanding eye.

"A grave, to put these _lovers_ in." he muttered with a controlled sneer, and just as his faithful comrade was about to gather help, Wolfgang raised a hand to stop him.

"But bury my lady on top; she was of a wealthy family."

Edmund nodded again and fled, leaving Wolfgang to his thoughts.

_**V**_

The pulpit was alive with shouts and cheers for Wolfgang, how he had bested the adulterer and defended, even restored his honor with the man's death. He surveyed those who surrounded him, his two pistols back where they belonged on his hips, his arm in a sling and a smile on his face. He accepted the praise wholeheartedly, enjoying the admiration of his peers. At least, he was until he met the eyes of the one woman in the crowd who wasn't smiling. She was looking him dead in the eye, face stoic and unmoving as she moved towards him when the crowd dispersed. He knew who she was.

"Mrs. Moser." He greeted coolly with a bow.

"Mr. Scott." Her own greeting was just as cool as she nodded back.

"By rights I should kill you." He found himself sneering and her eyebrow quirked up in surprise. She even had the audacity to laugh, hallow as it was.

"What gives you that right? I'm one of the few who _haven't_ slept with your wife." Her words were harsh, and he found himself blushing at how much they hurt. But he still felt the need to avenge his honor, and she knew that he would most likely feel that need for a long time. Yet still . . .

"Your husband was fucking my wife." He wanted her to feel as uncomfortable as he was.

"And your wife was fucking my husband." Her rebuttal was swift, and he winced as if physically slapped. But she hadn't slapped him, not even when she learned that he had killed her husband. The father of her children and the one man she had loved.

"And because of your humanity, we both return to empty beds." Her peace spoken, she turned and walked away. He watched her go, wondering why Arnold would have slept with his wife when he had such a strong woman to go home to every night. Unfortunately the answers went to the grave with the dead man, where they would stay for an eternity.

As Wolfgang Scott wandered back to his Royce where Edmund was waiting, Helga Moser started her own car, whispering a plea for strength before having to return to her children and try to explain why their father wasn't coming home again.

"_O hear us as we cry to Thee save both those on the Land, and Sea_."

HA


End file.
